


a light drizzle of flowers

by writedeku



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kageyama has the Hanahaki Disease, Language of Flowers, Loving Families, M/M, Oblivious Hinata Shouyou, TW: Illness, TW: coughing, TW: graphic descriptions of coughing out flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writedeku/pseuds/writedeku
Summary: Kageyama would've been content to love Hinata Shouyou quietly from the sidelines till they graduated high school and forgot about each other. Because that's what happened to people who Kageyama loved- he lost them eventually.He would've been okay with that reality- until he wakes up one day and starts to cough out bright orange flowers and realises he's going to die because he chose to love someone. Ironic, isn't it?





	a light drizzle of flowers

**Author's Note:**

> hanahaki disease: a fictional (emphasis on fictional) disease, often used in fanfictions, where the victim regurgitates and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. The illness can only be cured through surgical removal, however any existing romantic feelings are also removed with the infection.
> 
> thanks to the kind as ever angie (@kageyawn) for reading through this first! 
> 
> enjoy the angst that is to follow :)

The feeling he gets when Hinata lands a spike that he set is nothing short of euphoric, and though they have done it many times since they clashed all those months ago, there is no change in the sheer adrenaline rush that accompanies the smack of the ball on the floor, no change in the disbelieving noises from the crowd.

_That was insane!_

_It was so fast!_

_What the hell just happened?_

He would be lying if he said that the crowd’s disbelief did not make their quick all the more exciting to perform, as though it was a party trick they brought out when they needed the popularity and momentum.

Right now, the training match against a nearby school is going well. For some reason, Hinata is focused and on task, not making an unnecessary noises or movements- perhaps he’s still working off stream from the killer math test they had this morning.

This toss is a little bit more difficult- the receive had been off and thrown Kageyama for a loop there, but Hinata had smiled at him when it went up and he knew the boy would hit it anyway, because that’s what he does. Hinata backs up and starts to run- and then everything happens in slow motion. The ball barely grazes his fingertips before it’s off, and Hinata’s barely run before he’s flying.

The ball smacks on the floor of their opponent’s court.

Hinata drops to the ground easily, landing on sure feet. There’s a moment as he takes a while to process the smack and the pain on his palm, then he’s turning to Kageyama with a smile that is so bright, it could rival the very light they stand under. Kageyama’s heart wrenches, his gut twists, and his heart aches all at once, culminating in a fierce burn that sends shockwaves through his body, resulting in a deep, hoarse cough that shakes his shoulders.

“Wo-ah, Bakageyama, that sounded bad,” Hinata darts over to him anxiously, jumping up and down to eye him from all angles, as though that could somehow make him better. Idiot. “You okay? You getting _tired?_ Or sick? You can’t get sick!”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama sucks in a deep breath and turns back to the game. “We’re in the middle of the match.”

“Oi, you sure you’re okay?” Tanaka asks, his sure hand landing on Kageyama’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off and clenches his fists tightly.

“Yeah,” he lies. “I choked. Let’s refocus on the match.”

“If you say so,” he replies unconvinced, and signals to the Ukai that they’re ready to resume play.

Kageyama’s fists have no choice but to ease up when the ball comes his way, and when they do- two orange flower petals fall from his open palm like the softest of drizzles.

* * *

It started two weeks ago, when he’d turned up to practice in a foul mood because his day had been absolute shit. He’d failed one of his subject tests, had to stay behind to receive a lecture from his teacher _-(you can’t be playing volleyball forever, Kageyama-kun, you have to study too)-_ then, after he’d stayed behind a girl had confessed to him behind the school and he’d had to turn her down, which resulted in tears, chocolates in the trash bin and a _but I really think you’re cool, Kageyama-kun._

He’d turned up to practice pissed, tired and aching and took it out on his tosses and serves, smacking the ball down so hard onto the floor Noya stopped him after one particularly hard one to “check for dents.”.

Hinata eyed him suspiciously from the side of the gym while he practised, and then, while Kageyama was forced to take a break by the gentle smiling face of Ennoshita that bellied a shitstorm if he refused, he’d loudly declared, “Kageyama, you look like you need a hug.”

 _A hug?_ Kageyama hadn’t been hugged in ages, and he certainly didn’t need to start now. The idea of that much physical contact with someone made his stomach twist with anxiety, and subconsciously he began to move backwards, away from the devious smile on his face.

“I don’t,” he deadpanned, staring straight ahead as though wishing someone would come down and take his soul to heaven.

“Sure you do! Your face is all… _bleh_ ,” Hinata said cheerfully. “Did you fail again? It’s okay, I failed too. We can fail together,” he made a face and laughed again. “Alright! I’ve decided. I’m gonna give you a hug. I can’t believe we’re second years and I’ve never given you a hug before.”

“I really don’t want it,” Kageyama was definitely backing away now.

“‘Course you do,” Hinata backed up a bit and then charged forward, leaping at the last minute to wrap his arms around Kageyama’s neck and his legs around his waist. The momentum nearly caused Kageyama to topple over, but his back slammed hard against the wall instead.

He took a moment to process what just happened. One moment, two moments, then Hinata’s hand slid into his hair and his head nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and Kageyama’s hands instinctively came up to support his thighs.

“See? Hugs feel great, Bakageyama,” Hinata chuckled and squeezed tighter. Kageyama was frozen in place because, hell, it did feel good, actually. Hinata was warm and breathing and alive in his arms. He could feel his hands in his hair, his warm breath on his neck, the sticky slide of sweat as Kageyama readjusted his grip on his thighs. The boy is small in his arms, featherlight and fragile.

It’s not so much the _safe_ feeling he’s heard of, but more of a feeling of comfort and protectiveness, as though he would do anything to keep Hinata happy. Come to think of it, hadn’t this always been in the back of his mind, the reason he accompanied Hinata wherever he wanted to go, the reason why even when doing solo practices his eyes tended to follow the orange mop of hair not because he was doing something spectacular, but just that the look on his face as he swung his arm made him feel funny. He chased after the feeling, not knowing what it was, but it came to him now unbidden, and it scared him so much he let go and Hinata first dangled by his arms around his neck and then dropped to the ground unceremoniously.

“Ow! Why’d you do that, Bakageyama,” Hinata scolded, rubbing his butt as he stood slowly. “Mean!”

Kageyama stared straight ahead at the wall. _No. No. No. No. No. No. No._

“I think the King of the Court needs to reboot,” Tsukishima snickered, rolling his eyes. “You probably broke him.”

“I did not break him!” Hinata squinted his eyes together and shook his fist at the blonde, who laughed and strolled away casually. “Oi, Kageyama, did I break you?”

“I’m fine,” Kageyama managed to wheeze out and took stunted steps back towards the net.

“If you want I can hug you one more time,” Hinata gave him two thumbs up.

“No more hugs!” he did not mean for his tone to come out as vehement as it did, but it startled Hinata into silence, which he supposed was better.

The flower petals came a week later.

It’d started small, a cough here and a wheeze there, a slight panicked feeling when he couldn’t breathe, especially when Hinata looked at him.

“Kageyama that was awesome!” Hinata declared, flush with exhilaration and pride. “Your serve went all _blam_ and _wham_ and you got an ace against Noya-san! You’re awesome!”

The words attacked Kageyama as though they were physical knives Hinata had thrown at him. Looking into his eyes, he suddenly felt extremely open and vulnerable, as though Hinata could see right to the core of him and understood what was there. It made him scared, because if Hinata knew what he’d suddenly taken to thinking about at night- he thought he might actually die.

“D-dumbass,” he stuttered out instead, scuffing his feet on the floor. “It was nothing.”

“It was amazing!” Hinata proclaimed this as though it were the second coming of Jesus. His hands shot out to wind themselves around Kageyama’s neck and he pulled him in for a quick hugs that was simultaneously too short and too long- and suddenly, Kageyama couldn’t breathe.

“I’ve-“ he drew in a wheezing breath. “I’ve got to go,” he choked, and then stumbled out through the gym doors and blindly fumbled his way to the bathroom.

Kageyama braced himself on either side of a sink, gulping down air that did not seem to do anything as his body shook and heaved, forcing something out of him. When it was all over, he slumped to the the floor, body shaking and shivering, staring at dripping and sodden flower bud in his hands.

* * *

Even now, he hasn’t told anyone about it, because what should he say? _Every time the person I love looks at me I suddenly cough out flowers?_ What would that even mean? That he's fucking insane?

He can’t take much more of this, though. With every flower he coughs up his body feels weaker. His tosses are coming slower. HIs eyes are losing their focus he can tell- he sleeps more and eats less, within the span of a week he's turned almost gaunt as he struggled to keep down any food. His legs ache and his arms get sore extremely fast, which makes playing volleyball torturous.

“Kageyama,” Hinata skips by his side as they walk home from the school where their practice match just ended- with them as the victors, as expected. “You look sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Kageyama growls and turns roughly away from him, his eyes hard. “I’m…”

“You know, it's fine if you get sick, even the King must fall sometimes,” Hinata gives him a cheeky grin that has his heart twisting and racing. Framed by the orange hues of the setting sun the boy is nothing less than beautiful, looking for all the world like a sun god descended upon them. His eyes are bright and his smile just as, his posture is wide and his words are cheerful. They’re polar opposites really, but Kageyama’s hand finds itself reaching out to ruffle the orange mop of curly hair. It’s soft and fluffy, he expected no less.

Hinata watches him with wide eyes, but they do not say anything more, except for a soft whispered goodnight as they part at a crossroads- the word is said like it’s something only Hinata should hear, and the unexpected tenderness in which Kageyama finds he says it sets him off into another round of coughing.

* * *

The coughing only gets worse when he sees Hinata and a girl eating lunch together through the windows of the classroom as he passed by. The way Hinata looks at her is fond and tender, and he’s quiet in a way he usually is not. Kageyama finds himself stopping and staring. The girl is pretty and small, shorter than Hinata from the looks of it, which makes her an ideal candidate for a girlfriend. Is that who she is? A crush? His hand moves up to scrabble fiercely at his heart, ruffling up his shirt and he presses his nails into his skin and draws deep, heaving breaths.

 _Oh, Hinata,_ he thinks as he watches the boy laugh through the window. _What did I expect?_

He turns away from them in a rush, but he’s Kageyama Tobio, and he’s never been one to leave things alone to fester and rot, and certainly not with Hinata. So when they’re setting up the gym for practice he turns to Hinata and asks, “so who’s the girl in your class I saw you eating lunch with?”

Hinata looks up from where he’s tying the net. His eyebrows furrow as he struggles to remember, but then he’s laughing as he turns away from him. “That’s just a friend.”

“Oh, do you _like_ her?” Kageyama struggles to stay nonchalant throughout the conversation, but he feels a cough building, feels the unsettled jumble in his chest.

“Like her?” Hinata’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “No no! I mean I like her, but I don’t like her in that way,” he turns red and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “She doesn’t like volleyball. Says it’s boring. I could never date someone like that!”

“Even if they’re the most perfect person you’ll ever meet?” Kageyama finds his eyebrows raising but inside he’s relieved, so relieved he thinks his soul has finally ascended.

“Well, if they're the most perfect person I’ll ever meet, they’ll like volleyball,” Hinata says stubbornly and turns away from him to run after a stray ball that had escaped from the basket.

Kageyama must be smiling something stupid, because Tsukishima comes by and leans down to whisper in his ear, “jealousy called and you just picked up.”

“Shut up,” he says instantly, and turns red at how Tsukishima cracks up laughing after.

* * *

He hurts all over. Sitting in Japanese class he’s suddenly acutely aware of how he cannot breathe, feels it build up inside him until he’s doubling over in class and choking on all his intentions and feelings, groaning as he pulls a stalk from his mouth and stares at it on the table.

His teacher stares at him.

“Are you okay, Kageyama-kun?” he asks, and Kageyama instantly moves his hands to cover the flower on his table.

“Fine, sensei,” he replies, and it would’ve been believable if he didn’t start coughing again, and from his mouth comes a spillage of bright petals he struggles to hide in his palm. “If I can be excused to the bathroom?”

“Take your time,” his teacher says. He barely makes it out of the door before he’s doubled over again.

* * *

It’s three in the morning, and Kageyama can’t fucking sleep. The wastepaper basket next to him has long since overflowed with those nasty orange flowers and it just keeps on coming, forcing him out of his exhausted slumber to cough out more of them.

He can’t freaking breathe, he can’t eat or sleep or drink- he just coughs and coughs and coughs and it’s dry and wheezing and _hurting_. The flowers flutter through the gaps of his fingers and onto the floor and this keeps going and going until he’s curled in a miserable ball on the bed.

 _Why me? What did I do? What did I_ do _?_

He’s scared and he’s shaken, his body shivering as he manages to cough out some more of the petals, but now they’re tinged with red. Lowering his hand miserably, his fingers card through the piles of petals sticking to his bed. The colour kind of reminds him of Hinata’s hair but it’s so cruel to him, so cold and hurtful and cruel he thinks it cannot be because Hinata has not a single cruel bone in his body.

He has never loved anyone the way he loves Hinata, he realises as he blearily pushes petals off his bed. It’s terrifying and scary, for he wants the boy here with him right now so much it seems to ache more than the coughs deep in his chest.

He wants to touch him most of all, feel the pale skin beneath his hands, smooth and warm. He wants those eyes to turn to him questioningly and still a little excited, there always is a little excitement even in fear- Hinata never stops being excited for something, even if it is something as mundane as going to the store after school.

He hates this. He hates the sickness he feels when Hinata looks at him and at the same time he relishes in it because loving someone makes him feel so…new. Different. Right now, though, he’d really like some rest. Tears pin prick the corners of his eyes when the clock ticks past four and he realises he hasn’t slept a wink yet.

* * *

He awakes after the terrible night to find his mother standing in his room, tears staining her face. “Tobio,” she says, voice cracking, and then bursts into tears once more. Kageyama has never seen his mother cry, not once, not even when his dad left the two of them to fend for themselves. It creates a vice around his heart that he cannot work around. “I am so, so sorry, Tobio.”

Kageyama’s eyes track the movement of the tears, watching it trickle down her porcelain skin and fall into her lap- where she’s holding fistfuls of bright orange petals. Two weeks into it, most of the petals are stained with blood, corrupting the bright orange and turning them sinister.

Something about his mother crying makes him tear up for the first time since the match in middle school. He asks thickly, plaintively, sounding like a child again, “what’s happening to me?”

His mother launches herself forward to pull him into a tight hug, pushing his head into the crook of her neck as she rocks him back and forth and coaxes him to sobs, and for the first time since he was seven and decided crying was uncool, he sobbed like a baby into his mother’s arms, looking through blurry eyes at the orange petals that fall off his bed with the movements they make. He cries until his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts, and his eyes are stinging and red.

“It hurts,” Kageyama gets out between hiccuping breaths. “I can’t breathe or eat or sleep, and every time he looks at me it-“

“It throbs,” she finishes, and presses a finger into the hollow of Kageyama’s throat. “It pulses right here, doesn’t it, Tobio?”

“Yes,” he sniffs, and her crumpled, broken down expression makes him shrink away.

“Get dressed, Tobio,” his mother stands shakily from him and dusts flower petals off her skirt. “I need to take you to a doctor.”

* * *

The drive there is long yet quiet- they’re driving out of Miyagi, and from the scenery Kageyama barely recognises it seems like they’re going to Tokyo. Was he that sick?

His phone buzzes and Kageyama looks down it.

**From Hinata:**

_bakageyama r u not coming to school today?_

_.°(ಗдಗ。)°._

**To Hinata:**

_i am sick._

**From Hinata:**

_wahhh for real?? take care of urself kags or ur not gonna be able to play volley with me (_ _˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭_

_i’m waiting for u to get better_

_u better hurry up_

_practice is gonna be so BORING KAGS WHY_

_(´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)_

The words themselves are sweet. He smiles fondly down at his phone before setting off into another round of coughing, deep ones that shake his entire body. His mother pulls over and he stumbles blindly out of the car, vomiting into a nearby ditch as flowers tumble out his mouth and drip wetly onto the grass.

“Oh, Tobio-chan,” his mother says as she wipes off his mouth and caresses his face. “How long has it been?”

“About two weeks,” he hiccups and wheezes, on his hands and knees in the grass. “How’re you not scared of me?”

“How could I be scared of my own son?” she says tenderly as she helps Kageyama to his feet. “Besides, I think this is my fault.”

“Your fault?” he whispers, his voice betraying him.

“The Hanahaki disease is passed down through my bloodline,” his mother explains as she guides Kageyama into the car and they set off once more. “I was hoping you’d only be a carrier and not a victim.”

“What does it do?”

“In the case of unrequited love, flower petals grow inside the victim’s lungs,” the temperature in the car drops by several degrees, and Kageyama shivers. “You have six weeks. Either your love gets returned and you live, or your love isn't and the flowers choke you.”

Kageyama's blood runs cold. “Is that all there is?”

“There’s another option,” his mother doesn’t meet his eyes. “But I’ll let the doctor talk to you about that.”

* * *

“Ah, Kageyama’s back!” Hinata shouts, gleeful, when Kageyama pulls back the gym doors to step inside for morning practice. He rushes at him and gives him a hug, one which Kageyama gladly returns, winding his arms around Hinata’s waist and squeezing. The boy is still small in his arms; he feels almost like glass, as though if Kageyama squeezed too hard he would shatter. It does not matter to him; he buries his head in Hinata's shoulders and feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Hinata, oh, Hinata.

_“The other option is that we surgically remove the flowers,” the elderly doctor says, looking seriously at the two of them. “But, as your mother knows well, if the flowers are removed so are your feelings for the person. Essentially, you will never love them again.”_

_Kageyama’s world stopped spinning. The doctor and his mother appears before him in a dizzying slow motion, but all he can think of is Hinata. He would never love Hinata again?_

_“It’s a sacrifice you have to make for your life,” his mother says urgently. “I had to make it too.”_

_“Father,” Kageyama says, and it is not a question. “That’s why you weren't sad when he left.”_

_“He didn’t love me anymore, Tobio, and I had to take care of you. What else could I have done? Do you understand the gravity of this situation? If he doesn’t love you within four weeks, you will die. It is not worth it to die for a boy,” his mother takes his hands._

_“But-“_

_“You have two weeks to think it over,” the doctor says, his eyes overcast. “If you wait any longer, the infestation would’ve grown too strong and we won’t be able to remove it without harming you.”_

_“I’ll wait,” Kageyama says instantly, then wonders why he’s so vehement on loving Hinata. They are just feelings. He is just a boy. There are many boys in the world that he could find and love in replacement._

_“Is he worth it?”_

_Kageyama doesn’t answer, but he finds it deep within himself. If he went for the surgery now, without even giving it a try- Hinata would always be his biggest what if, his midnight dreams, his bored daydream. Even if he didn’t love him anymore he would always look at the boy and wonder what would happen if he didn’t- and somehow the thought of living with that regret made his chest hurt._

As he holds Hinata, he becomes conscious of eyes on his back, but for once he can’t care, for he is too busy being in love with being in love. Even though he’s spent the past three weeks dying, he’s never felt more alive than he has in the instances where he’s been in love with Hinata. Every time he’s with him colours come in brighter shades, he feels lighter and brighter. He loves the rush he gets when Hinata looks at him and the twist in his stomach when Hinata’s shoulder brushes his and the zing of pride he gets when Hinata finally lands the perfect receive. It’s warm and it’s mushy and it’s everything that Kageyama used to detest, but now that he's here and _loving someone_ it feels like the entire world is at his fingertips.

Middle school Kageyama would be rolling over in his grave right about now. If it weren’t for this disease he would be content with loving Hinata quietly from the sidelines, nursing the warm feeling in his chest when Hinata smiles into something bigger and brighter.

“Kageyama, are you still sick?” Hinata asks, concerned, when the hug stretches into something that is a little longer than a friendly welcome back hug.

Should he tell Hinata he's going to die because he chose to love someone?

“I- I guess I am,’ Kageyama says and steps away from him, rubbing the back of his head.

Hinata looks at him weirdly. Then he says, “I’ve missed your tosses, Bakageyama.”

“I’ll set some for you,” he says at once.

* * *

His good health deteriorates fast and swift. He’s entering the week where he decides whether he dies for love or lives without it bedridden. How’s he supposed to get Hinata to love him like this, when he’s all broken and useless?  He’s moping about in his misery when he gets his answer delivered to his very door.

“Kageyama, your friend is here to see you!” his mother calls, and Kageyama has barely sat up in his bed when the sun blasts through his door.

“Bakageyama, why're you still sick?” Hinata complains, dropping to sit casually on his bed and look up at him earnestly. “Why’re there flowers all over your room?”

The sight of Hinata makes him both ridiculously happy and utterly depressed. His conflicting emotions war within him, one being glad to be in his presence, the other annoyed that he’s here to see him in such a state.

“I’m not contagious,” he gets out hoarsely, and then he’s reaching forward and weakly pulling Hinata into a hug. Hinata lets out a surprised gasp, then wriggles himself onto his lap and nuzzles into the crook of his neck again.

“I’ve got you addicted to hugs, haven't I?” Hinata says with a laugh and a squeeze. “Have you not been hugged since I did it the first time?”

“No one hugs me,” Kageyama says, breathing in the scent of wildflowers and mountain grass. “I’m scary.”

“You know, I thought you were scary at first, but inside you’re just a softie like the rest of us, right?” Hinata teases, pulls away from him to scan his face. “You like hugs and pork buns and that one time we saw a rainbow you were just as excited as I was!”

“Yeah, well, only you know that,” Kageyama pushes him off his lap and enters another round of coughing that results in a feathery poof of flower petals. He’s glad Hinata is face down in the mattress so that he doesn’t have to explain why he’s sick.

“Kageyama, I miss you,” Hinata rolls over and looks up at him with sad eyes. “It’s like- you've always been there, and now you’re not. I’m lonely without you.”

“Get a girlfriend,” Kageyama tosses a pillow at him and Hinata squeals and rolls away.

“I don’t want a girlfriend I want you! I love your volleyball!” Hinata doesn’t really have words to describe the funny, tight feeling he gets in his chest when he looks at Kageyama, especially now that he’s sick and looking like he’s just about ready to die. _It’s probably his volleyball,_ he thinks, and tries to forget the rush in his stomach when Kageyama tackles him. “Anyway, it’s the weekend tomorrow and your mother said I could stay over to help you with what you’ve missed, y’know! So you won’t be lonely!”

_His mother said he could stay over…? That witch. She must’ve put the colour of the petals and the shock of orange hair together and abruptly decided she’d play matchmaker._

“You’re just going to bother me,” Kageyama grumbles and turns away from him to lie back down on his pillow.

“Ouch, so mean, Bakageyama! I’m worried about you, you know. You should be glad you have such a great best friend,” Hinata laughs and falls beside him, pressing his face into Kageyama’s chest and winding their legs together.

“Best friend…?”

“Of course. You’re my best friend,” Hinata smiles toothily up at him. “I’m so happy we managed to become friends in the first place. You make me feel all _gwah_ inside when I see you play!”

“Oh, so I’m only your best friend because you like the way I play volleyball,” Kageyama flicks his forehead and ignores his pained cry. “That’s mean.”

“You're mean,” Hinata whines.

“I’m going to sleep,” Kageyama rolls over and is surprised when Hinata fixes himself to the slope of Kageyama’s back and clutches at his shirt. The physical intimacy alone is enough to make him want to cry, because he’s going to have- he’s not going to have this anymore, is he, when he gets the flowers removed? He would stop loving Hinata but does that mean he would stop _liking_ him? It makes him feel so sick he starts to cough again.

“Take it easy, Kageyama,” Hinata whispers, and he finds himself relaxing into his words.

* * *

“Kageyama I brought you soup,” Hinata calls cheerfully, bumping open the door with one hand, but the smile on his face dies at the deadened expression on Kageyama’s face. “Oh, Kageyama. Are you-“

He places the soup on Kageyama’s desk and kneels before him, feeling his head and running his hands lightly over the smooth skin of his face. The funny, tight feeling is back in his throat, like a lump he cannot swallow around.

He’d been like this the entirety of the morning too, moping around and being generally _more_ lifeless than usual- and he’d flinched at any skin contact Hinata made with him, making the both of them feel upset and confused. it honestly broke Hinata’s heart to see him like this, all soft and sad, and now he wanted nothing more than for the boy to get better. Kageyama isn't supposed to be weak and helpless; he’s always taken what he’s wanted and never gave a damn.

His room is now rapidly darkening as night falls, Hinata already planning to stay the night as he watches Kageyama deteriorate instead of fight off the infection. He’d already guessed the flowers had something to do with it when he watched Kageyama pull his hand away from his mouth dripping the buds, but no amount of internet searching revealed the nature of the disease.

“We’ll go to bed early, okay, Kageyama,” Hinata says quietly, reaching out to touch Kageyama’s shoulder gently.

The twist of anger that corrupts his features shouldn’t be that jarring to Hinata, but it is, and he snaps his hands back and bounces away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch you?” Hinata echoes in disbelief. “Where was all that just now?”

“I don’t want you to touch me now,” Kageyama sneers at him, his eyes fever bright, his words thick and slurred. “Go home, Hinata. Leave me alone.”

“Leave you alone? You look like you’re about to die!” Hinata shoots back, though his knees are shaking and he's terrified. “Why would I leave you alone?”

“Because I want you to,” Kageyama topples out of bed and staggers over to him, but his stunted movements have him slamming into Hinata instead, sending the both of them into the wall. Kageyama leans on him heavily, pinning him to the wall, staring at him with sadness. On his tongue is a bright orange petal Hinata can see when he opens his mouth again. “Please leave. I don’t want you to stay around me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you make me sad,” the words break Hinata’s heart. W-why would he make Kageyama sad? Did he do something wrong? He’d thought he’d been the perfect caring best friend the entire time.

“Why do I make you sad?” maybe his tone conveys his heartbreak, because Kageyama looks away from him in a guilty flush.

“Because I love you,” the boy before him says, his eyes turning angry. “I love you so much it’s _killing_ me. Of course you make me fucking sad, you moron.”

“You _love_ me?”

Kageyama wants to scream. “I just said that, didn’t I? But you don’t love me back; so of course I want you to leave.”

Hinata’s eyes speak of heartbreak, and he feels immensely guilty. “Of course I love you,” Hinata says stubbornly, but he knows it's not good enough.

“That’s not enough,” he whispers, stepping backward to push him towards the door. “Leave, Hinata.”

“No, no I don’t want to leave,” Hinata stands his ground and looks him in the eye. “Who’re you to say I don’t love you enough! You make me feel all _wah_ inside whenever you look at me. When you tell me _nice receive_ it makes me so much more happier than when even Noya-san says it!”

Kageyama turns away from him and collapses onto his bed, heaving. “You love me for my _volleyball,_ not for me, dumbass. I love you outside of volleyball. I love your smile and your hair and it drives me _insane.”_

“I don’t think you get to choose whether or not I love you outside of volleyball,” Hinata sits down next to him and folds his arms across his chest petulantly.

“So,” Kageyama pulls a flower petal out from his mouth and tosses it into a trash bin. “You love me. Then _why do I keep coughing?”_

“Well how am I supposed to know? You won’t even tell me what you’re sick with!”

“Get out of my room!” Kageyama roars, and the anger with which he says it is almost like a smack to Hinata’s face.

“Fine!” he shouts, face screwed up and red, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. “But I don’t think you would treat someone you actually love like this!”

The door slams shut behind him.

 _I’m not going to love him anymore, and the last thing I would’ve seen is him crying,_ Kageyama hates himself. He actually, honest to god _hates_ himself right now, but he’s no idea what else to do. If Hinata thought he was making fun of him, maybe it would make his sudden coldness acceptable. Maybe it was better for all of them this way.

The wall is boring and acceptable. Kageyama finds himself dreaming of a world in which this never happened, where he was free to love Hinata softly from the sidelines, being there for everything and yet never saying a word. He imagines what it would be like to love him openly, to hold his hand and kiss his cheek and watch him smile beneath him. He thinks about how nice it would’ve been to love him until he couldn’t anymore. He dreams about how pleasant it might’ve been to be loved in return. He doesn’t realise how much time is passing until he turns around and sees that it’s two in the morning, and he’s done nothing but dream.

A cough, another petal. The bright orange stained with blood wipes off onto his palm, and he eyes the blood with distaste and disinterest.

He thinks _I’m so sorry Hinata_ just as Hinata sits bolt upright in bed and shouts, “AAAH- I _love_ him!”

* * *

Shouyou bursts through the door of his own house and slams it shut behind him; the unusual display of anger from her only son has her looking up from the sofa worriedly.

“Shouyou, I thought you were only coming home on Monday,” she asks and stands, freezing in place when he sees her son looking lost and distraught, his eyes red and his nose running. “Oh, baby, what happened?”

Contrary to popular belief, crying is the only thing Shouyou doesn’t do loudly. He’s never been a one to throw a tantrum, not even as a child. When he wept he wept silently, the tears spilling over his face as he stared blankly ahead. Right now, that is exactly what her son is doing, his tears spilling from his face and dripping quietly onto the wooden floor. She's glad Natsu is asleep, because if there's anything Natsu detests more than broccoli, it's her brother crying. She would kick up such a storm trying to comfort him and they would never get to find out what happened.

“Come here, Shouyou,” she opens her arms and he steps inside, clutching onto her as though she were the only one on his side. "Did you and Kageyama-kun have a fight?"

“He kicked me out of his room,” Shouyou sniffles as she guides the both of them to the sofa. “He said I don’t love him enough.”

“He said you don’t love him enough?” his mother clarifies, because it’s an odd thing to fight about, especially one as stoic as Kageyama. She’d only met him once, but she knew from the moment her eyes landed on him that he is everything Shouyou described him to be, intense, fierce- and unexpectedly tender to her son and daughter.

From the corner of her eyes she sees her husband come out of the garden and stop dead at the sight of the two of them. His eyes grow wide in panic, his orange hair- once bright but now dull, fell out of his hairband and into his eyes. She loved him dearly, she did, but- he wasn’t the best with emotional situations. He tended to panic, and she can already see some words about to be blurted out of his mouth.

 _Go away,_ she signals with her eyes, flicking it purposefully between him and the bedroom door. _You can’t handle this._

 _Roger that_ , her husband even salutes her as he quietly nudges open the bedroom door and disappears into it, but not before giving her two thumbs up as a sign of emotional support. Sigh. Shouyou is much like his father.

“Mama, how do you know when you love someone? What does it feel like?” Shouyou asks once he’s calmed down and stopped whimpering softly into her shoulder.

“What does it feel like?” she asks, astonished at the line of questioning. Perhaps it had been a long time coming; maybe she needed to have The Talk with her son about getting into relationships. Did he and Kageyama like the same girl? “Well, what do you feel when you look at them?”

“I feel all… _gwah_ ,” Shouyou says lamely- just like his father. Gosh. “But I don’t think that means I’m _in love_ with them, I just like the way they play volleyball!”

_Ah, so a girl on the volleyball team. Of course. As if Shouyou or Kageyama would love someone who didn’t love that sport._

“You sound like you’re afraid of being in love with that person,” his mother pets his head soothingly. “There’s nothing wrong with being in love. And it isn’t scary either.”

“It _is_ scary,” Shouyou insists, his hand moving to cover his heart and clench at his shirt. “Whenever I see them play it makes my heart _hurt._ And when they tell me I did a good job it- they make me so _happy_ and so _sad!_ If I loved them, why would they make me sad?”

“What kind of sadness do you feel?” his mother prompts. “When do they make you sad? When they talk to other people? When they ignore you? When you do something and they get angry at you? Are they mean to you?”

“No! Kage- _they_ are never mean to me!” Hinata says adamantly, wiping his eyes on the back of his hands. “I’m never sad because they’re mean to me. It’s more like…when I see them play and stuff, I think…I can’t…ugh! I don’t know! I can’t think around them! I do stupid stuff and I mess up my receives and-“

“Stop thinking about volleyball, Shouyou,” she smiles and holds his hands. “Do you like them outside of volleyball? Do you want to be with them?”

Hinata frowns in concentration. Of course he wants to be with Kageyama outside of volleyball. He likes being around the boy, while he looks scary and smiles scarily too, he’s sweet and kind to Hinata, and sometimes when they touch there’s nothing scary about it at all.

“Yes,” he settles on. “I like it when they hug me and when we eat lunch together. Sometimes we don’t talk about volleyball at all.”

“You like it when they hug you?”

“Yeah,” Hinata frowns again. “It feels very safe. Like I'm being protected. That's good! Right?”

“Of course it is,” his mother laughs. “So if you want to be with them outside of volleyball, you like it when they hug you and you like their volleyball- which I know is high praise coming from you- then why are you still afraid to admit to yourself that you love them?”

“Because,” Hinata stutters, then cannot think. Kageyama’s a _boy_. What would the rest of the team say if they found out they were dating? Would they be weird? No, no they wouldn’t. Hinata feels momentarily bad for even thinking Karasuno would react that way.

Then what? Kageyama not liking him back?

But Kageyama did like him back!

He said so!

He meant it! He must’ve…ugh, then why was he so mean just now? Maybe he didn’t want him to catch his cold and was just being his stupid Kageyama self. The whole _I don’t have friends_ kind of stick he always carried around with him, what an _idiot._ And it made sense, right? If you did love someone, you wouldn’t want them to catch your sickness.

But it doesn’t mean that Hinata is _in love_ with him, he just loves him casually as a friend. Or- or would he like to love him more than that? What if he could-

What if he could love him the way his mother and father do?

He tries to imagine it- first it’s domestic, just walking home together, which they already do, eating lunch together, sitting next to each other- _done done done._

He thinks of falling asleep on Kageyama’s shoulder, which he has done exactly once- he thinks of how safe he felt when Kageyama wound his arm around his waist and dropped his shoulder to make it more comfortable. That was lovely. So what if- what if- what if Kageyama held him like that in a bed? If they sleep together? Would it be comfortable to cuddle with Kageyama?

Kageyama’s much bigger than him. It’d be like what he did yesterday then, and that had felt…amazing. It was warm and safe and he even felt like _Kageyama_ liked it too.

He’d like to cook for Kageyama too. Make a bento for him, one of these days. Hinata can cook quite well. He’s good at making simple bentos, like ones for his sister when his parents were out.

And…what about kissing Kageyama?

“Why are you scared to love someone?”

“Because he’s a boy!” Hinata shouts, then claps his hands over his mouth. He looks up in fear at his mother, but finds, to his utmost relief, no sense of disgust present in the tilt of her head. It makes him feel almost dizzy.

_A boy? Of course. Kageyama-kun. How did I not see it?_

“Well, even if it is a boy, if you love him, your father and I will still support you no matter what,” his mother tugs on his cheeks and smiles softly when Hinata starts tearing up again. “Listen, Shouyou, you should never be afraid of love. No matter if it’s for a boy or a girl.”

“I don’t…not in that way,” Hinata mumbles.

“If you say so, my mandarin,” his mother ruffles his hair. “Are you alright now? You should to go bed now, you still have school tomorrow.”

“I will,” Hinata smiles tearily at her and gives her one last hug before trooping up the stairs.

He’s a boy.

So?

Hinata falls onto his bed and thinks about it again.

What would it be like to kiss Kageyama?

It would be soft, he reasons. Kageyama always has soft lips. He doesn't like it getting chapped. So it would be soft to kiss Kagey- _no,_ there’s got to be more than that.

Hands! Of course! Where would his hands be? Hinata would…Hinata would put his in his hair, definitely. Kageyama had nice hair. And he would like for Kageyama's hands to be- on his waist. Kageyama has big hands, with long fingers, like a pianist’s. They’re a little rough- a little rough…they would feel-

Oh god, Hinata’s face turns bright red and he smacks himself in the face with his pillow. _No!_ He does not want Kageyama’s hands to be- and yet, he finds himself thinking about it still. Wandering hands. A kiss to the neck.

Hinata rolls over again.

Is this love?

Is this- well, it’s just them being physical. It’s not love.

_“Hinata,” Kageyama whispers, his mouth just centimetres from his ear. His breath washes over him and he shivers. They’re pressed up against the wall of the school gym, Kageyama bending over him, one leg between his. “Hinata, I love you.”_

The fantasy makes him feel unbearably warm.

_Hinata, I love you._

_Hinata I-_

_Shouyou, I love you._

Hinata sits bolt upright in bed and shouts, “AAAH- I _love_ him!”

* * *

What should he do? Should he wait until tomorrow after school to tell Kageyama? No, he should tell him now.

Now? It’s half past two in the morning, what is he thinking? He can’t go and tell him now. Ugh! He hates this! He’s been pacing around his room for the past fifteen minutes trying to think about what to do with the revelation.

“I shouldn’t go over there now,” he says. “But I feel like I should. Kageyama needs to know. If he knows I love him too, maybe he won’t be so sick anymore.”

“No, it’s half past two in the morning and you live a mountain away.”

“Yeah! Well, hmmph, who cares! If he loves me he’ll let me stay the night!”

“But mother will get mad.”

“Oh…but it’s worth it if it’s Kageyama!”

“Idiot! Of course it’s not!”

“You shut up!”

“Shouyou!” a new voice interrupts his tirade, and he blinks out of it to see his mother and father standing in the shadow of the doorway, their arms crossed.

_Oops._

“Um,” he starts, eloquently. “I’m going to bed I promise!”

“Do you need a ride to Kageyama-kun’s house?” his dad asks, and suddenly Hinata realises they’re smiling. “I heard you yelling.”

“We both did,” his mother smacks his arm lightly. “And I was the one who asked you.”

“I didn’t know it was _Kageyama-kun_ he was taking about, darling,” his dad shies away from his mother and steps into his room. “If you tell me the way, we can get there in fifteen minutes. Pack an overnight bag, I guess.”

“He already has one packed,” his mother picks up his duffel from the ground and dumps it into his father’s arms. “Go on then, Shouyou. Young love only lasts so long.”

“Ahh, you all! I love you!” Hinata throws himself at his dad, because he’s the closest and squeezes. “You’re really letting me go?”

“Well after you spent so long agonising about it,” his dad chuckles and half carries, half walks him out of the room. “We knew it’s either this or you'd try biking there, which is dangerous at this time, Shouyou. Come on then. Walk by yourself, little man, or we’re never gonna get there before sunrise.”

“I’m not little!”

“You got your mother’s genes, little dude. I’m sorry. I bet Natsu’s going to be real tall, though.”

“Stop it! Daaad!”

* * *

“Tobio,” his mother taps on his door. “Hinata-kun is downstairs.”

_What?!_

“Hah? What’s he doing here? I thought I sent him away four hours ago!” Kageyama tumbles out of bed. Ever since an hour ago, his cough had gotten a lot better; he assumed it was because he’d sent Hinata away.

“His father drove him here. He’s waiting in the living room and he looks very scared,” his mother’s voice is muffled through the door, but he can still hear the excitement in her voice. “Maybe you should wear new clothes.”

“He’s not here for a confession,” Kageyama snarls at her.

“Is that so? I haven’t heard you cough for a long time,” his mother replies, and the tone she wears speaks of the sparkle in her eyes. “Better hurry up before Hinata-kun loses his courage.”

Hah. As if Hinata would lose the courage to do something once he’s made up his mind to do it. Sure, he’s fickle and unreliable- but when the situation needed it he was unparalleled in his ability to rise to the occasion and absolutely claim it. Even though Kageyama knows he’s not here for a confession, he can’t help but- he can’t help but _wish_ that he is.

So he pulls on a sweater _-(the cream one Hinata said he liked one day)-_ and troops down the stairs obediently. He’s barely hit the bottom step before Hinata is there, swerving in front of him like an out of control car, his face flushed red.

“Kageyama!” he shouts, and then claps his hands over his mouth and scuffs his feet on the floor. He’s unbearably awkward. What an absolute idiot.

“Yes?”

“You’re very mean to me,” Hinata shakes his fist at him and steps forward until they’re almost close enough to bump chests. “You made me very sad just now. I think you should say sorry before I say anything else.”

“What? I’m not going to apologise,” Kageyama startles backwards, but his feet hit the stairs and he nearly falls over.

“Well, that's what you do you when you hurt someone you love,” Hinata says adamantly. “When my father makes a mistake he always apologises to my mother. And you really made me sad.”

Kageyama looks down at him, his eye twitching, but his customary anger does not come to him when he sees how forlorn Hinata looks. _Maybe I really did hurt him,_ he thinks, uncharacteristically mushy.

“Fine, then I’m sorry,” Kageyama mutters, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Is that all?”

“That was a terrible apology, Bakageyama! You didn't sound sorry at all,” Hinata makes a face at him and sticks out his tongue. “Bad! Bad!”

“Dumbass! What do you want from me?!”

“I want you to love me!” Hinata nearly shouts again, but then remembers to clamp it down at the last minute. “I want you to love me like how you said you did.”

“Why do you want that from me?” Kageyama tries to step away again, but is once again defeated by the staircase. _What is going on? What is going on?_

“Well, I’ve recently decided that I-"

“You?’

“I-“

“Hinata-“

“I love you too!” this is definitely a yell and it makes Kageyama take a step back and fall onto the steps. Now Hinata leans over him and instinctively Kageyama presses further back into the unyielding wood. “I love you too. I want you to kiss me and take me on dates and hold my hand and be my setter. I want-“

 _Is that why- is that why his cough got better?_ It’s true that Kageyama no longer feels the burning pressure in his lungs anymore. Although Hinata looms into his personal space, he can feel- it feels like he’s taking the first bits of fresh air he has in a long, long while.

“You- you want me to kiss you?”

“I said that, didn’t I?” Hinata huffs and sits down next to him on the stairs. “You- I- I want you to- I want you.”

“You can’t just say something like that, Hinata,” Kageyama can feel his throat close up and not because of his illness. He feels an overwhelming desire to touch and he does, sliding his hand over Hinata’s waist through his shirt and pushing up over his back and into his hair. Hinata twitches then relaxes into the touch, but not once does he shy away from it.

“It’s true,” he says stubbornly. “I want you to be mine so I don’t have to watch girls confess to you and worry you’re going to get taken away.”

“You saw that?” Kageyama’s face burns and he makes as if to pull away- then Hinata’s hand is landing on his shoulder and pulling him down determinedly. Their lips meet in a very haphazard sort of way- neither of them know what they are doing, and it’s really, really awkward.

It takes a couple of tries, Hinata laughing the whole way, before they get it right- and when they do, without the clash of teeth or accidental biting, it’s suddenly very pleasant. His hands wander from his sides to hold the side of Hinata’s face; Hinata’s hands tighten the grip they have on his sweater, and Kageyama can see why grown ups like this so much.

Hinata loves him.

This small, beautiful, fragile boy actually _loves_ him. It’s amazing. It’s wonderful. It makes him feel sick. He pulls away from Hinata to cough again, but suddenly the flower petal that spills from his mouth isn’t ominous anymore.

He’ll get better.

Hinata watches the petal drift to the ground. “That’s a marigold, did you know that? I googled it. Because you wouldn't tell me anything, meanie.”

“A marigold?”

“It’s usually treated as a weed,” Hinata makes a face at it then leans onto Kageyama’s shoulder. “It means cruelty and jealousy. Why’re you coughing them out, Bakageyama? You’re not some sort of witch, are you?”

“I’m no witch, dumbass,” Kageyama whacks him on the head.

 _Cruelty and jealousy? A weed?_ Somehow, the descriptions were too real and too wrong at the same time, but the meaning slides from his mind when Hinata looks up at him earnestly again.

“So can I call you my boyfriend now?”

Kageyama’s brain short circuits. _Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend._

“D-dumbass,” he stutters, but it seems to be all the confirmation Hinata needs.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! pls leave a comment or a kudos if you liked it, it makes me happy :)


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